"If you could go anywhere, anywhere at all, where would you go?"
"Corea, Maine," I tell him without a moment's hesitation.
"Why there?" he asks as he leans forward, the chair screeching in protest as it goes back into its upright position.
He is looking intently at me, like he knows something I don't but I've had a long damn time to think about this, seven years in fact, so I have no trouble answering him.
"When I was a little kid, I remember my grandparents taking me there every summer for a month. I don't have any brothers or sisters and I was the only grandchild my grandparents had. It's just this quiet, sleepy, little fishing village on the coast and I've always wanted to go back."
"Good answer, kid," I hear right before an envelope with my name on it lands on the desk in front of me.
I reach out slowly for the envelope irrationally thinking that at any point it will jump up and bite me like a snake. My mind is reeling because I have no idea what is going on. I don't recognize the handwriting, not that I have anyone that would write me a letter in the first damn place. All my family is dead, I don't have any friends, so I have not one fucking clue who would send something, and to my parole officer of all people. The only name I can think of makes my blood turn cold but there is no way it can be him, I tell myself and then open the envelope.
I skim the letter that is inside then read it slowly again and again … and again, not believing what I am seeing. There are words all over the page and I comprehend what I'm reading, but nothing is computing. What I see can't possibly be true.
"Corea, Maine," I tell him without a moment's hesitation.
"Why there?" he asks as he leans forward, the chair screeching in protest as it goes back into its upright position.
He is looking intently at me, like he knows something I don't but I've had a long damn time to think about this, seven years in fact, so I have no trouble answering him.
"When I was a little kid, I remember my grandparents taking me there every summer for a month. I don't have any brothers or sisters and I was the only grandchild my grandparents had. It's just this quiet, sleepy, little fishing village on the coast and I've always wanted to go back."
"Good answer, kid," I hear right before an envelope with my name on it lands on the desk in front of me.
I reach out slowly for the envelope irrationally thinking that at any point it will jump up and bite me like a snake. My mind is reeling because I have no idea what is going on. I don't recognize the handwriting, not that I have anyone that would write me a letter in the first damn place. All my family is dead, I don't have any friends, so I have not one fucking clue who would send something, and to my parole officer of all people. The only name I can think of makes my blood turn cold but there is no way it can be him, I tell myself and then open the envelope.
I skim the letter that is inside then read it slowly again and again … and again, not believing what I am seeing. There are words all over the page and I comprehend what I'm reading, but nothing is computing. What I see can't possibly be true.
Be sure to check back on Wednesday for a Wordle Teaser and the first recipe!!
Thank you, again, to everyone for reading and all of your support yesterday! YOU made the day wonderful and I hope you continue to enjoy The Breakers!
